The Paths That Merge
by bittersweetmelody47
Summary: AU. When Sylar is put in Level 5, his main objective, of course, is getting out. But once Claire is brought in, he finds that his objectives have changed. SylarxClaire. Spoilers for Volume 1 & 2, perhaps a tiny bit of Volume 3.


The Paths That Merge

**I.**

When they first brought him in, he went straight to Level 5.

Like that surprised him. It was designed to hold the most dangerous, the "villains", as they called it.

Of course, he would be labeled as one of them.

The cell is small, roughly the same size of the cell that Bennet had put him in a long while ago, with that same large glass wall at the front.

There's a cot in the far corner, and it's the only thing in the room, which leaves plenty of room to pace.

The others in their cells do it regularly, but it's not like they have a choice. It's either that or just sitting on your cot, your head leaning against the wall, thinking. Or sleeping. Or testing out your abilities as a way to vent frustration, to know, to make sure, that you are still more special than others. It's what gets you in here, after all. Getting a little over-excited with your abilities. Something he's definitely guilty of.

He's amazed that those on this level can still keep their abilities, rather than having it taken away by a virus, similar to the one he'd been injected with after that _incident_ at Kirby Plaza. The one he rid himself of so recently.

Perhaps here they think that because of their confinement, they're harmless now.

The Company is not filled with very bright people.

He smirks, leaning against the wall as he watches his hands glow then dim, on and off.

Playing with fire.

**II.**

The head of The Company, Bob Bishop, comes to visit him the next day.

He looks up from where he's sitting on his cot at the man frowning at him, the blue eyes narrowing behind his round glasses.

"Gabriel," Bob begins. "You put yourself in here."

At the sound of his real name his hands grip the edge of the cot instinctively, but he doesn't make any move to get up, to draw closer to the glass dividing them.

"Did I?" He asks in mock-interest, his eyebrows raising.

Bob frowns again, clasping his hands together in front of him. "All those things you did to others like you was wrong. You had the opportunity to live among those unlike yourself if only you had harnessed your abilities. We could've helped you with that. But we see now that you're beyond help."

"Isn't that a shame," He says, mimicking Bob's frown.

"This is where you ended up," Bob continues, ignoring his last statement. "It could have been different, but it's not. And you have no one to blame for that but yourself."

He laughs harshly, the sound of it loud in the still room. "Is this some sort of therapy session? Should I start talking about my family now? My disappointments? My boring childhood? Just so you can come up with a reason as to why I'm this way?"

Bob shakes his head, seemingly unfazed. "Cooperate, Gabriel, and there will be benefits. We'll give you things to do to pass the time. Like books to read, paper to write on…"

"I've already got something to do that will pass the time," He grins, holding out his hand as his pillow zooms towards him.

"So be it," Bob responds, and leaves.

He discards the pillow and stands up, moving closer to the glass, looking out at the others who are kept in their own cells.

He got out of a cell like this before, and he has no doubt that he'll be able to do it again.

He just needs to set his plan in motion first.

Right now, it's only a matter of time.

**III.**

There's a persistent knocking sound and he revives from his sleep, bleary-eyed.

He looks towards the glass and groans. "You."

Elle laughs, her nails tapping against the glass. "I decided to pay you a little visit. You look so lonely here all by yourself."

He sits up, glaring at her.

"Does _daddy_ know you're down here?" He drawls, and Elle shrugs in response.

"What he doesn't know won't kill him."

He laughs at her words, because he knows the truth. What Bob doesn't know could very well kill him, which he'll find out soon enough.

"Well, Elle," He says. "I'm not exactly in the mood for company today, so just go skip all the way back to where you're supposed to be and don't bother coming back."

Elle flips her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "Ooh, a little grouchy today, huh?"

"Elle?"

Bennet comes into view, looking at her in confusion. "Your father doesn't want you down here. You know that."

"Sorry, it won't happen again," Elle replies briskly and leaves, winking at him as she goes.

He scowls.

He shifts his attention to Bennet, who's about to leave. "So, Noah, it's just like old times, isn't it?"

Bennet looks at him, disgust shining on his features, and turns his back on him, moving further away down the hall.

Just before he's out of sight, he shouts, "How's Claire?"

He's sure he sees Bennet's shoulders stiffen as he walks away.

**IV.**

Of course, Elle does come down to see him again.

Every. Fucking. Day.

He finds out a little too late that his annoyance only fuels her interest, and there are some days that he actually wants to be drugged, just so he can drown out her chattering.

Bennet doesn't interfere. He has the feeling that Bennet has decided to refrain from coming down here for a while.

He knows why. He got into his head, and that makes him very happy.

He holds his head in his hands as Elle talks on, and he concludes that this has to be the worst form of torture he's ever received.

She talks about everything. Celebrity gossip, fashion, her thirst for danger and mischief… she practically lists them off one by one as she sits cross-legged against the glass.

Nothing fazes her. No insult, snide remark, threat, nothing.

The girl's got issues.

"--oh, and they brought in that Bennet girl today and--"

His head snaps up quickly. "What?"

She smiles widely at him, and he knows that she meant to get his interest. "The Bennet girl, the one who can heal? They're going to do some tests on her."

"Tests for what?"

"They're going to do all sorts of things on her. To see how fast her body can heal. How much it can endure."

He smirks. "I bet her father wasn't so happy about that."

Elle's smile grows even wider, like a Cheshire cat. "Oh, no. He got into a shouting match with my father, even tried to get violent with him. They had to sedate him. He's in a cell down here now, you know? A couple of cells over from you."

"Down here?" He asks, and can't help but be confused. "Isn't this the wrong level to keep him on?"

Elle shrugs. "My father says he's a danger to everyone now. So they're keeping him down here."

"Elle!"

Elle jumps, startled, looking guiltily up into Bob's livid face.

"How many times have I told you not to come down here?" Bob reprimands, and Elle gets up quickly.

"Later, alligator," She says to him with a smile, and leaves, and Bob, after glaring at him, follows behind her.

Just when he becomes interested in what Elle has to say she has to leave, and he rubs his forehead, the sound of her heels clicking along the floor growing fainter and fainter.

**V.**

A couple of hours later he hears voices, more than usual, and he moves closer to the glass as Claire comes into view.

She looks the same way he remembered her that night he tried to kill her at her high school, with her blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail, wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt.

Bob is escorting her past his cell, surely to see her father in his own cell a little ways down.

She doesn't look at him, but he can tell that she's forcing herself not to.

No doubt Bob warned her that he was down here as well.

He'll make her look.

He brings his hand up to rest against the glass, drumming his fingers against it. "Well, if it isn't the cheerleader."

She looks at him, just like he expected, and he's a little surprised at her blank eyes, her somber expression.

"I'm not a cheerleader anymore," She responds quietly, and he watches as she walks away.

**VI.**

Claire passes by his cell every day but every time Bob is with her, to make sure she doesn't speak to him.

But he does study her carefully each time he sees her, and she's getting worse. Much worse.

Bags hang under her eyes and her eyes themselves are dim. She looks weak, not healthy at all, and he realizes after a while that she's losing weight.

Elle still visits him, but not too often, and he guesses it's because her father keeps a close watch on her.

He actually kind of looks forward to seeing her, because he knows he can get any information he wants out of her.

And information is exactly what he wants.

He leans against the wall, his legs spreading out across the cot. "Why does she keep coming down here?"

Elle knows the 'she' he's referring to. She has for a while. "She made a deal with my dad. She'll let them do whatever they want to her if she can visit her dad every day. Sweet, isn't it?"

Elle says the last line with an edge of sarcasm, and he is surprised at the anger that overtakes him at her lack of empathy.

But he holds it back. "What have they done to her so far?"

Elle flips to the next page of her Vogue magazine. "Simple things at first, like cutting of the body and hair. They cut off her finger yesterday, you know," She looks up at him at this, excited. "And it actually grew back."

He listens intently as she continues.

"They cut off all her hair too, but it grew back the next day. Today they're starting on radiation, I think. It's amazing what her body can do."

She tries to make her last line sound positive but he can tell by the firm line of her lips that she's realizing how horrible it all really is.

When she leaves, he absentmindedly summons the book he's been reading (according to them, he's behaved well enough to earn this luxury), but it misses his hand and lands behind him instead.

He walks over and picks it up, but then tosses it back onto the cot.

He suddenly feels sick to his stomach, and knows he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the book anyway.

**VII.**

The next day he wakes up to yelling and he moves closer to the glass as Mohinder and Bob come into view.

They're discussing something heatedly, and Mohinder's eyes meet his over Bob's shoulder, but only for a split second.

"How many times do I have to apologize?" Mohinder asks. "When I went in to give Bennet his food, he overtook me. It's not my fault he wasn't drugged enough."

"Well, at least we were able to subdue him before he could do what he wanted to do," Bob replies. "But now we've got another problem. A big one. John's out. Bennet must have released him to create a distraction while he went to help Claire escape."

"Bennet would really let that dangerous man out?" Mohinder asks, surprised. "He's the one who put him down here in the first place!"

"You'd be surprised at what a father would do for his daughter," Bob says grimly, and Mohinder is silent.

After a moment Bob takes a backward glance at him, frowning as he sees him peering at him, then looks back at Mohinder, lowering his voice.

But thanks to Dale's enhanced hearing, it's not a problem.

"John even took some of the files with him. Files on people part of The Company. One of them being about Bennet."

Mohinder doesn't bother to lower his voice, and he smiles inwardly, because he knows that Mohinder's aware that lowering voices around him would prove to be futile.

"Anything else?"

Bob shakes his head. "That's it. But that doesn't mean it's any less of a problem."

Mohinder nods. "I need to go to Claire now. She needs my help with her father."

"Do whatever you can," Bob agrees. "Claire's been on very good behavior."

He notices Mohinder frown slightly, and he can tell he's not any more happy about how Claire's being treated than Bennet is.

Mohinder passes him by swiftly, not even looking back.

Shortly afterward, Bob follows.

**VIII.**

That night he knows that it's going to be soon.

Maybe a few more days from now.

All he needs is that card, the card that allows him access in and out any of the rooms.

But he's not worried.

He'll figure out a way to get what he needs.

After all, he always does.

**IX.**

When Elle visits him the following morning, she's barely at the glass when he bombards her with questions.

"Whoa, relax," She says, her eyes widening. "I'm here to tell you anything you want to know about your girlfriend."

He decides to ignore how she refers to Claire. If he gets angry, she might refuse to tell him anything and leave.

"What happened to Bennet?"

"He got out, tried to get Claire out, and my father shot him," She replies simply.

"Is he dead?"

"Yeah. Mohinder and Claire tried to use her blood to bring him back to life, like it did last time, but--"

"Last time?" He asks, furrowing his brow.

Elle sighs. "Last time he tried to shoot my father, but Mohinder shot him. Later Mohinder used Claire's blood to bring him back to life. But it won't work a second time. Apparently once the blood is in your bloodstream, it can't be used over and over. It's already there. It can only work once."

"Where is Claire now?" He asks quickly, processing the information as fast as he can.

"In her room, mourning the loss of her father." Elle answers, brushing the bangs out of her eyes.

**X.**

He doesn't know how it started.

He thinks perhaps it's because she's the only one who got away.

Therefore, his obsession with her would make sense.

He's adamant on not letting her get away this time.

But this time, he has no intention of killing her.

Because there are other alternatives.

And getting his hands on those files before he goes is one of them.

**XI.**

When the day comes he's been confined for exactly one month.

He waits until Bob's heavy footsteps approach his cell (he's been able to learn who's footsteps belong to whom), and he uses the ability he's been holding back for so long.

He morphs into Elle just before Bob comes into view and he approaches the glass hurriedly, almost spraining his ankle because of the heels, and rests his hands against the glass.

"Daddy!" He declares desperately, almost wincing at the voice that comes out of his mouth, puts on an expression of fear, and Bob looks at him in shock. "He tricked me! He already had a card; he must have swiped it off someone when they came in to deliver his food!"

Bob yanks a card out of his pocket, moving forward to slide it through the machine, and he resists the urge to laugh.

It's all going so ridiculously well.

He exits the room, remembering to keep on that expression of apprehension and fear, and Bob looks at him. "Which way did he go, Elle?"

He points randomly down the right end of the hallway. "Down there. He left about ten minutes ago."

Bob nods, looking at him intently. "You go to Claire's room, make sure he's not trying to get her out. You told me of his questions about her, so he might be there. Use whatever force you need on him, but don't kill him."

He nods. "And what room is she in again?"

Bob sighs, exasperated. "Room 9, Elle, two levels above."

"Thank you," He says, and with the wave of his hand Bob is thrown across the room before he can even react, slamming against the wall and slumping to the floor, unconscious.

He morphs back into himself and those in the cells around him pound against the glass angrily, some hopefully, as if he would take pity on them and let them out.

It's too bad for them that he's only intent on helping one person escape.

He ignores the yells and approaches Bob, taking the card out of his limp hand.

No, The Company is not filled with bright people at all.

And with that, he slides it through the machine by the door and grasps the handle, smiling as it opens.

**XII.**

He walks quietly along the level Claire's kept as Elle, for he knows of the cameras, keeping a wary eye out for the real Elle. But she doesn't show, and even he is a little taken aback at how easy this is.

When he reaches Room 9, he slides the card through and opens the door.

Claire looks up from her book, sitting on her bed, and her shoulders slump dejectedly. "Taking me to do another test, Elle? I just did one an hour ago."

He shakes his head, morphing back into himself, and Claire springs up from the bed, her expression bewildered and slightly fearful.

"It looks like I've come to save you, Claire," He states, the corners of his mouth tugging upward into a smug smile. "Let's go."

After a few seconds go by she regains her composure, her face hardening.

"What makes you think I'd go anywhere with you?"

He blinks for a second, then glares at her. "You're telling me you'd rather stay here doing their sick tests than get the chance to leave?"

She merely stares at him for a moment, and he at her, the moment almost as if suspended in time, then she walks past him out the door.

"Let's go," She says, repeating his words.

**XIII.**

He gets the files he needs after using force on some people along the way, and he and Claire make their way out of the building.

She doesn't ask about the files.

He had grabbed car keys from one of the people he used force on and he clicks the alarm button as they enter the parking lot.

They approach the car that makes the shrill beeping sound and once he clicks the button again, turning it off, she asks, "Aren't you going to kill me?"

Her voice is so calm, her stare blank, and he can tell she stopped caring a while ago.

"Don't worry about that right now," He replies. "Get in the car."

**XIV.**

She's quiet on the drive at first, but then she asks, "Why did you help me escape?"

It's the question he's been expecting her to ask ever since he rescued her, but somehow he doesn't know how to answer.

The truth is, he's not even sure why he helped her.

"Because a person like you shouldn't be holed up in a place like that," He answers after a moment. "It'd be a waste."

She becomes quiet again, and he stares out at the road, wondering where to go. Right now they only need to get as far away as they can.

After a few more minutes pass by she asks, staring out the window, "I want to see my mother and brother. Can you take me to my house?"

Her voice is quiet, and he thinks he can detect timidity in it.

"Tell me where," He complies, and she looks back at him sharply, a small smile playing upon her lips.

**XV.**

He parks in front of her house and she unbuckles her seatbelt quickly, relief shining on her face, and she opens the door and gets out.

He lets her go, turning around and reaching in the backseat to retrieve the stacks of files, and once he does, he looks back at her retreating figure. Once she reaches the front door she looks back at him briefly, and he knows that she knows he'll wait.

He thumbs through the files. He's sure there's someone else with the ability of regeneration. Claire can't be the only one.

If there is, he won't have to kill her. It'll be nice for the both of them.

Some part of him no longer wants to kill her anyway, something that developed slowly in the past few weeks, but he pushes it aside for now.

He'll do what he has to do when the time comes.

He scans through the files some more, and nearly drops them out of his hands when a blood-curdling scream fills the air.

He knows it's her, and he scrambles out of the car and sprints towards the front door of the house, wrenching it open.

In the living room, Claire is staring in horror and anguish at something on the floor and he follows her gaze.

First he sees the blood, so much of it, everywhere, then he makes out the still forms of her mother and brother, the couch obscuring the whole view.

A flash of red on the wall ahead of him catches his eye and, as if having the same thought, Claire brings her head up to look towards it as well.

It's a word in big block letters, the blood as ink: _Payback._

It comes to him in a rush: the villain Bennet had let free in order to save Claire, it was a man Bennet himself had locked up years before. The man took the file of Bennet to learn his address. By letting that man go free, Bennet had inadvertently killed his family.

"Blood," Claire whispers, letting out a gush of breath. "My blood. I can still save them…"

She looks up at him, imploring. "Do you have a needle or anything?"

He gazes at her, then remembers something and finds himself laughing.

She merely stares at him in shock, a look of disgust on her face, and she opens her mouth to say something, but he puts up a hand, stopping her.

"I took some of your blood, Claire," He explains. "Before we left. It's in the car."

As she takes in his words she grins, exhaling deeply. "Get it. Please."

He does, and when he enters the house again she's holding wind chimes, an odd expression on her face.

"What's that?" He asks.

She doesn't respond, just steps out onto the back porch, hanging it up, and when she comes back in she says, "You'll see."

She takes the case containing the syringes full of her own blood, holding it in her hands limply. "Thank you."

He just nods, and she moves past him to sit down on the couch, looking everywhere but at the bodies of her mother and brother.

"Claire?" He asks, so confused, and she looks up at him. "Why aren't you using it on them?"

He motions to the bodies and she shakes her head. "Not yet. He'll be here soon."

He studies the bodies, at the blood pooling around their heads and other areas, and it reminds him of all the things he's done.

"It happened recently," He blurts out upon realization. "The blood hasn't dried up yet."

At his words Claire finally looks upon the bodies, the sound of the chimes blowing about in the wind, and at that moment, as if a ghost out of thin air, a dark-skinned man walks in.

Claire jumps up at the sight of him, smiling. "You came. Thank you."

The man nods. "I told you before that I would."

The man's eyes take in the bodies and his expression becomes alarmed. "What happened here?"

"They were attacked by someone who escaped from Level 5 at The Company," Claire explains, and holds up the case of her blood. "I have the blood to save them. My blood."

"Then why do you need me here?" The man asks.

At this question he sees Claire's face take on that look of anguish again. "When they come back to life, I need you to take their memories of me away."

For the past minute he had been silent and patient, but at this, he says, "Claire, you can't be serious."

He feels the man's eyes wander over his face and he wonders if the man recognizes him. The man does nothing to give this away though.

"Your father would never allow this," The man declares, disapproval on his face.

" My father is dead," Claire answers, so calmly that even he's surprised. "Bob, at The Company, shot him. Even my blood won't save him now."

The man remains stoic at this, then after a moment, nods. "You're sure about this, Claire?"

"Yes," She answers decisively. "All I've done is put them in danger. I can't do it anymore. I'm going to leave, and I don't want them looking for me. So they need to forget."

Tears begin to form in her eyes at this, and he can tell she's doing all she can at the moment not to break down.

"And what about you?" The man questions, and looks back at him. "Where will you be going?"

"I'll be fine," Claire reassures the man, trying to smile but failing. "I'll go to New York and pay the Petrellis a visit."

She says the last sentence so feebly, that he knows, instantly, that she won't be doing such a thing.

But it appears to have convinced the man standing next to him. "All right. If this is what you want, Claire. But remember, once it's done, there's no going back. It will be permanent."

"I know," Claire nods, and holds out the case to the man. "Give them the blood for me, please. I don't want them to see me when they come back."

The man takes the case from her outstretched hand.

"Then do it," She adds weakly.

She looks down briefly at her mother and brother, then makes her way past the man.

The man stops her, his hand touching her shoulder. "Good luck, Claire."

Her lips form a tight smile, the best she can manage at the moment. "Thank you."

She moves past the man, when all of sudden the man asks, "Wait, Claire. What about your father? Their memories of him?"

She doesn't turn to face the man, just stands there, looking ahead out at the open doorway to the front lawn, her face tight.

"Do what you think is best," She finally replies, and walks out the door.

For a moment he and the man look at each other, then he moves to follow her.

**XVI.**

She says nothing during the drive, just presses her face against the window, hiding it from view, and he gives her the respect of saying nothing in return, just drives towards an unknown destination.

About half an hour later he parks in an empty parking lot, the darkness of the night enveloping the car.

He waits, then knowing it can't be avoided any longer, he begins, "Claire."

At the sound of her name she takes in a sharp breath, then suddenly the tears spill forth from her, and the car is filled with the sound of her sobs.

His hand brushes her shoulder and suddenly she peels away from the window and leans against him.

And he lets her.

She takes comfort in the enemy now.

Because she knows she has nothing more to lose.

And he wonders, as his hand smoothes her golden hair, when he began to care.

**XVII.**

After a while she begins to settle down and let fatigue take over her, and he thinks she's fallen asleep against him when she suddenly speaks.

"Mohinder was in on it, you know."

"What?"

"Mohinder," She repeats softly. "He pretended like my dad caught him by surprise, but he actually planned it with him. He was feeling guilty about what they were doing to me. So he let my dad knock him out, knowing that he'd be able to get out and rescue me. He just didn't know my dad would let out someone on Level 5."

He remembers the calm look Mohinder had showed when he explained that he was knocked out, then his genuine surprise when Bob had mentioned that Bennet had let a villain out.

It makes sense now.

"And I think he was feeling guilty about shooting my father too," Claire adds.

"He was the one who shot your dad after helping him escape? I thought--"

"No, no," Claire corrects him. "Bob shot him the second time. Mohinder shot him the first time, about a month back, when my dad was trying to kill Bob."

Ah. Right.

He's a little bothered by Claire's lack of emotion when talking about her father like this, but he guesses she's just too spent, emotionally.

"I have no one left for me now," Claire declares solemnly, shifting against him.

"What about the Petrellis you mentioned. Peter?"

He remembers Peter, with the dark hair and eyes. A little like him. The first, he had found, that he had failed to kill. And probably never will succeed at.

She's quiet for a moment, then says simply, "They have their own lives. There's not any room for me."

After this, they're both silent, and after a few minutes he thinks she's truly fallen asleep, but then she surprises him again. "Are you going to kill me?"

He waits for a moment, then says, "No."

It's the truth.

"I thought you want what I have."

"There are other options."

She sighs lightly, and he can't tell if she's relieved or not.

"Who was that man?" He finally asks, something he's wanted to know for the past hour. "At your house."

"He's the Haitian," She replies. "He can take people's memories away. He's worked with my father for a long time."

He thinks about this, at what a truly unique ability it was.

As if reading his thoughts, she says, "Please don't do anything to him."

He resists the urge to laugh. "I won't."

She looks up at him then, her blue-green eyes roving over his face. "I'll stay with you."

He merely looks at her, serious. "I won't change for you."

She nods, no sadness present in her face. "I know."

After a second, he adds, "But I won't hurt you."

"I know," She repeats, and smiles, and while it doesn't exactly reach her eyes, he figures it's a start.

**XVIII.**

By the time she turns eighteen he's obtained more abilities, and on the off chance he shows them to her she doesn't frown at him or get angry.

He thinks perhaps she had given up caring about that too, when she lost her family.

It's only him and her that she cares about.

When he finally gets the ability of regeneration, for some unknown reason he decides not to flaunt it, a break from what he's used to doing.

When she discovers the ability it's a complete accident.

She had been washing the dishes and he had grabbed a clean knife the wrong way and she moved towards him to inspect the cut before he could think to pull away.

When she had seen the cut close and heal, like she had seen countless times on her own skin, she had, after a moment, looked up at him with a smile, a much brighter one than he had usually seen on her, and resumed washing the dishes.

He had wondered if she was relieved, because now he wouldn't have to ever kill her for her ability.

But he knows it's not exactly that.

She's relieved because he finally shares something that she had burdened by herself for years.

What was once hers is now theirs.

Therefore, they're both safe.

**XIX.**

On their anniversary he teleports her to Rome and they eat dinner at a nice restaurant out on a terrace with candlelight.

She looks beautiful in the strapless blue dress that reaches down a little below her knees and she smiles throughout the night.

She remarks to him how odd but a lucky thing it was for them to meet at The Company, in a situation like that, and he nods and reminds her that it'll be a good story to tell the children they'll have someday, and she laughs and agrees.

At some point later on he notices her staring out at the lighted streets with a sort of wistful expression and he knows exactly what she's thinking.

He reaches out to take her hand, which is resting on the table, and as she looks back at him he can tell she knows it too.

"Take me there," She asks softly, almost pleadingly, and he nods and grants her wish.

**XX.**

The daylight is bright on their eyes and her hand breaks free from his as they walk along the side of her house.

They reach the driveway, and as if on cue, her mother and brother exit the house, approaching the car.

They draw back slightly to the point that they can't be seen, and he sees Claire's mother laugh at something her brother says as they get in the car.

"Lyle's gotten taller," Claire declares quietly, a singular tear sliding down her cheek. "He's probably going to one of his soccer games."

The car backs out of the driveway, giving them both a short, last glimpse of both mother and son smiling, then they're gone.

"Mom looks happy," Claire adds, her voice a little stronger. "They both do."

He reaches out and wipes her tear away, and in response she looks up at him, her face more peaceful than he's ever seen it.

She raises up to place a light kiss upon his lips and her hand slips back into his.

Then they turn and walk away, eternity stretching out before them.

FIN.


End file.
